Say Something
by hotchityhotchhotch
Summary: Multichapter. Hotch/Emily. Author's fantasy return for Emily in episode 200. Has nothing to do with the actual episode plot. Emily returns from London for good. Still with Beth but no longer seeing the fireworks, will Hotch walk away from a stable relationship to explore what he and Emily had barely started before Doyle and Emily's fleeing to Paris changed everything? COMPLETE.
1. Bad Idea

**A/N: I don't really watch CM anymore; haven't since Emily left, except for one episode. So I have absolutely no idea what's going on, besides JJ is going to get kidnapped or something. Whatever.**

**I am 100% ignoring that. This is my fantasy of how Emily returns to the show (for good, not just for one episode). I hope you enjoy!**

"Daddy?" Hotch heard from a few feet below. He looked away from his phone and down at his son, Jack.

"What's up, kiddo?"

The eight-year-old boldly took his father's phone out of his hand. "You're not listening!"

Hotch forced a smile. "Sorry. Finish telling me about your day. How did that math test go?"

As Jack yammered on about multiplication, Hotch's mind drifted back to what had distracted him in the first place.

"Hey, Hotch, it's me…Emily. You're hard to get a hold of these days. Anyway, I'm…I'm coming back," she'd said in the voicemail. "_Moving_ back, that is. In two weeks. On the fifth, to be specific. I guess I just…thought I'd let you know. Uh…Talk to you later."

For about a year and a half she had been out of his life almost completely, save for a casual email here or there. She had allowed him to recover. Ironically, it was he who had driven _her_ away. Partly, anyway. The incident with Doyle had of course unsettled her. But Hotch's situation had made it impossible for Emily to find solid ground again in a world that required his support. Her return from Paris had been almost as traumatic as the near-death experience that had sent her there.

"Daddy! It's Beth!"

Hotch popped back into alertness again and held out his hand. After Jack had given Beth a detailed description of what number Hotch had been going in the bathroom when she'd called one time, Hotch had forbidden him from answering the phone when anyone of importance was calling.

"Hey," Hotch answered with another fake smile. The prospect of talking to his long-distance girlfriend did little to excite him. And that had little to do with the voicemail he'd just heard. He and Beth had said their "I love you"s, had made some plans for the future, but it had all felt very stale for months now.

"How was your day?" Beth asked.

"Not too bad…"

**Two Weeks Later**

The team awaited Emily's arrival at her little homecoming gathering at a favorite pub. Her flight had arrived several hours ago, but no one had seen her yet. "Act naturally, everyone, let's not freak her out," Garcia insisted.

"How could we freak her out by being excited to see her?" Morgan challenged. "Is something goin' on? Is she okay?"

"It's just a big change, and she wasn't sure about coming back in the first place," Garcia snipped.

"Why not?" Reid asked.

"Hey, guys!" Emily said at the door, waving, before Reid could get an answer. A hill of snow had gathered on each of her shoulders, contrasting the long black pea coat that left a sliver of her legs showing.

Hotch watched Garcia more than he watched Emily. He'd taught himself, ever since Emily had gotten back from Paris, to train his eyes on other people or things. Because ever since the day he'd learned he would have to play along with her staged death, he'd had to pretend she didn't exist.

It wasn't easy, though. When Emily hugged a nearly bursting Garcia first, Hotch caught a glimpse of Emily's soft hair—he could still feel the way it slipped like silk between his fingertips. And suddenly his eyes forgot their objective and stayed glued on what they wanted most. Their target was beaming, her smile spreading clean across her face as each of her old friends greeted her. Hotch waited until last, forcing himself not to take an extra second to hold her. This would be a foolish way to get caught.

"Hey," she said to Hotch with less fervor than she had the others. The excitement was put on pause as a few of their friends went to the bar, racing to buy Emily her first drink back in the States. The rest went off elsewhere, leaving Hotch and Emily alone.

"Hey." Hotch shoved his hands in his pants pockets.

"How's…How's Jack?" Emily asked carefully.

_Still asks about you once in a blue moon,_ Hotch thought to himself.

"He's good."

Emily smiled again. Even though the smile was strained, it didn't fail to completely derail Hotch's mind.

"I heard you already have a job in the Bureau again," Hotch said, maintaining eye contact and hoping Emily didn't catch on to what his eyes really saw.

_Her lips closing in on his. Her thick eyelashes revealing glazed-over eyes as she pulled away._

"Yeah," she said, clearing her throat as she shouldered off her coat. "Got the Europe thing out of my system and really started missing it here. I decided to try my hands at the D.C. Field Office, see if I can handle being in one place for more than a few weeks."

"Good luck with that," Hotch said with a wry grin. "Unit Chief, I hear."

Emily nodded modestly and reached out her hands for the bright purple cocktail Garcia brought her.

"I got you an extra beer in case you don't want to look like a kid who just ate a popsicle," JJ said, mocking Garcia's drink choice.

"You guys are gonna get me sick," Emily said, giggling as Morgan brought over a bottle of wine and a few glasses. Rossi, Reid, and Blake were trying their hands at the dartboard, letting Emily breathe a little.

"I would be honored if you threw up in my toilet," Garcia said grandly, kissing Emily on the forehead and leaving a lipstick print. "By the way, you're totally shacking up with me until you find your own place."

"I have a hotel already, and I actually can't wait to go soak in the Jacuzzi," Emily said apologetically. "I've been stiff all day from the flight."

"Well, once you're feeling better, my door is open," Garcia insisted. "I'll save you some money."

"Like she needs to save money," JJ scoffed. "Let me guess, Miss Moneybags, staying at the Ritz?"

Emily wiggled her eyebrows. "Maybe."

While Hotch stayed seated and for the most part silent, everyone else fussed over their long lost friend, asking where she was looking to live, wondering about her new job and how many minions she had, with Garcia keeping things uncomfortable by guessing what kinds of accents Emily's European lovers had.

Hotch didn't know what kind of night he'd expected. Did he expect Emily to come crawling back to him? Did he expect to let her? To cheat on his girlfriend?

He hadn't so much as touched Emily since before she'd disappeared to Boston three years ago. Had it really been three years since Doyle had effectively ended what had never had a chance to begin in the first place? Yes, he decided after some quick math. Almost.

Emily was soon dishing out hugs and kisses as her former colleagues made their way home one by one. Why Hotch didn't leave the first chance he got, he wasn't sure. Thanks to his lack of forethought, he found himself the only one left at the bar with Emily.

"How many glasses of scotch is that?" Emily asked.

Hotch shrugged. He never counted anymore.

Emily huffed. "Okay, then. So…how's Beth?"

Hotch licked the corner of his lips, tasting more scotch and the salt from a light sweat. "She's okay."

"Still living in New York?"

"Yup."

"How often do you guys see each other?"

"We shoot for about once a month. One of us tries to take a long weekend."

"So once every _three_ months you _actually_ see each other," Emily surmised.

"Sounds about right."

Neither said anything for a while, both equally uncomfortable at realizing what they were really talking about. Hotch's relationship with Beth had been the nail in the coffin for his prospects with Emily. Neither had ever said it outright, but only because it needn't be said.

Emily yawned. "Ugh, what a long day. I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel."

"Take a cab," Hotch said, noting the assortment of glasses and bottles around them.

"How do you think I got here?" she teased. "Hey. Can I ask you something?" She felt a new buzz taking over now that the obligatory chitchat about Beth was out of the way. Maybe it was that purple cocktail, or maybe it was the fact that Hotch was someone else's anyway and probably always would be. She couldn't possibly make things worse.

"Shoot."

"Did I…say something?"

Hotch looked up at her for the first time in a while, he realized. "What makes you say that?"

"You're acting colder than I remember. Not _cold_, I guess, just…aloof is a better word. I mean, we haven't seen each other since I left for London in the first place. I missed you guys. All of you. That includes you, you know."

"I know. I missed you, too."

"Then you could act like you're happy to see me," Emily said. Her inhibitions were loosened just enough for her to speak her mind, but she still articulated every word quite well.

"Of course I'm happy to see you." For the first time, Hotch's smile was completely natural. The banter woke him from his funk, at least for a moment. "Sorry if I put a damper on things. I'm just…"

"Tired, I know. Listen, you should get home to Jack. I'll get a cab for you, too."

"Jack's at a slumber party. I was going to stick around and have one more drink."

"Well, you didn't mention you were a free agent tonight. In that case, let's stop at the liquor store and party it up at my hotel room. Stop paying fifteen bucks a glass."

"I thought you weren't budget-conscious?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "I'm not staying at the Ritz, Hotch. I mean, I'm not staying at an airport motel or anything, but I'm not as loaded as you think I am. Living in London is expensive."

"So is living in D.C."

"I'll probably live in the suburbs," Emily said with a shrug.

"You really liked those row houses, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm kind of over living in the city. For now, anyway. I'd like a _big_ yard—a garden, patio furniture, you know. Room for a dog, maybe."

"Jack and I moved back into a house, you know."

"Really? I bet he loves that."

"And I love mowing the lawn again," Hotch said, raising his glass before emptying it.

"Come on," Emily said before Hotch could order another drink. "Let's hit up a liquor store and _really_ catch up."

This had _bad idea_ written all over it. Despite his slight inebriation, Hotch still had his wits about him enough to realize that he was buzzed, had a girlfriend he merely liked, and was about to go get the rest of the way drunk with the woman he loved. If Emily were sober, she would've left the bar with everyone else, would have avoided alone time with Hotch at all costs. And she never would have suggested that the two of them drink together in a hotel room.

As wary as he was of the entire situation, Hotch's every sense seemed heightened only in good ways. As he exited the building with Emily, her hair flowed behind her and he looked freely with no one there to spot him. Her hair had gotten long. So long. And it had a gentle wave to it. He'd expected Emily to come back with a short, blunt cut—something more suited to the office. But then he remembered something she'd said to him on one of their dates.

Their first one.

**Three Years Ago**

"I like the curls," Hotch said nervously as they sat down in a dark corner of a pricy Thai restaurant. It wasn't his favorite cuisine, but he was aiming to impress Emily by appearing a bit more cultured than he really was. "Your hair, I mean."

"I know what you mean," Emily said, flashing him a miraculously confident grin. "And thank you. I'm thinking of cutting it even shorter, though."

"Don't," Hotch said without a single thought. "I mean…it looks nice when it's really long. It looks nice _any_ way you wear it, but—"

"Hotch, relax. I'm not fishing for compliments on my hair and I'm also not going to ask you if this dress makes me look fat. Just be yourself. Chill out."

Hotch held his arms up slightly at his sides, showcasing himself. "This…_is_ me. I haven't been on a date in I don't even know how long. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

At this point in time, he had no idea that Emily's ex-lover was scheming his escape from prison to find the woman who had ruined his life. Right now, all Hotch knew was first date jitters. But it wasn't all bad. Somehow, through some stammering, he'd managed to ask her to dinner a few nights ago after work. And she hadn't turned him down.

Emily's lips curved upward as she looked down at her menu, bouncing her crossed leg under the table. The name Ian Doyle wasn't one that crossed her mind every day anymore. She was truly enjoying herself with Hotch while Doyle was halfway around the world, cooking up ways to torture her as she'd tortured him. Blissful ignorance.

"How much are you enjoying this?" Hotch asked.

"The atmosphere? I love it. It was a very nice choice," she replied offhandedly.

"I meant—"

"Watching you squirm? Of course I know what you meant, Hotch. I always know what you mean. And for the record, watching you squirm makes me the happiest I've ever been."

**A/N: Confused? Good! You know how I love flashbacks…you'll learn more as the story goes on!**


	2. The Truth

**A/N: Glad you are liking it so far! Enjoy the next installment.**

Date number two went much more smoothly than the first, at least from Hotch's point of view. He was more confident, didn't have to put his foot in his mouth quite as many times, and had even managed to get a hold of Emily's hand somewhere along the walk from another romantic dinner to her apartment. They didn't say all that much, both of them keeping there reveling very private, smiling into their cheeks flushed with joy when the other wasn't looking. Hotch hadn't held a woman's hand since Haley's, and even with her, it had never been this exhilarating.

Even through their chilled coats, each felt the warmth radiating from the other as the ancient elevator took its time getting to Emily's floor.

"Thanks for walking me up," Emily said, leaning against the wall by her door. "I'd invite you in, but I don't want to give you the wrong idea. I know you're a gentleman and I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts."

Hotch chuckled, stroking his thumb along the back of Emily's hand. "I hate to disappoint, but it's not just a phase. Tomorrow at work, if you get a bouquet of flowers and the card says they're from your mom, they aren't."

Emily's giggle was infectious. "Flowers from my mom? Anyone who knows me would read right through that. Try something more believable."

"Your dad?"

Emily nodded. "Much better. Also in the interest of keeping it believable, I would steer clear of red roses."

"Oh, of course. So, are you, uh…free next Saturday? I was thinking maybe adding on a movie after dinner this time."

"That depends. Are you going to pretend to yawn so you can put your arm around me?"

"Why, is that not a cool move anymore?"

Emily's laughter echoed through the hallway. "You know, I will admit that sometimes I actually _don't_ know what you mean. I honestly don't know if you're kidding right now and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"Fair enough. I guess sometime this week at work, I'll have to ask Morgan about his moves."

Emily's smile twisted into something ominous and she stuck her free finger into Hotch's chest. "I know Morgan's moves. He runs them by me when he's bored and he's been known to practice them around the office. Some of these slimeball moves even have names. Let me tell you right now, if you try any of them on me, it's over."

"Over, huh? Just like that?"

"Yup. And then I'll file a harassment complaint with HR and tell them you said you'd give me a raise if I went out with you."

"I see. So, in all seriousness, is Saturday good? I have to know in advance so I can find a sitter. Jessica's out of town."

"Yes, Saturday's fine. It is girls' night this week but I'll just let Jayje and Garcia know I can't make it."

"I don't want to get in the way of standing plans. We can do another night."

Emily shook her head. "We have an agreement. We won't bail on girls' night for a _first_ date, but for a second date it's acceptable as long as we sign a contract stating that it's not just a pity second date, but it's going somewhere."

"Oh? So this is going somewhere?"

Emily shrugged and took out her keys. "Let's see what kind of flowers I get."

**Present Day**

Hotch said almost nothing on the cab ride from the bar near Quantico, and said not much more from the liquor store to Emily's hotel in D.C. She unlocked the room to unveil three large suitcases that looked like they had recently exploded.

"Sorry it's such a mess in here," Emily said, sighing and rushing to shove some of her clothes back in suitcases.

"It's fine," Hotch said. He set down their purchases on the dresser, lost his coat, and loosened his tie. He hadn't since getting out of work.

Emily poured a mini bottle of scotch into a glass for Hotch and opened a beer for herself.

When Hotch took the glass from Emily and looked at the amber liquid, he saw his own vague reflection staring back. And then, for a fleeting moment, he saw Beth.

Emily caught on to Hotch's hesitance right away and cleared her throat. "Maybe we…shouldn't drink any more tonight. Maybe that's not such a good idea with…you know. You being in a relationship and all. We might do something stupid."

Hotch was glad Emily said it for him. "It is already bad enough that I'm here with you."

Emily hadn't meant for it to go that far. "Don't go, though. We can talk, right? We've got a lot to catch up on. Talking isn't inappropriate."

Hotch sunk into an uncomfortable, under-stuffed chair. "I suppose it isn't. So, catch me up. What was London like?"

Emily took the matching chair after opening up the curtain and revealing the city lights. "It's a great place. A lot of history, and it's beautiful, of course…"

"What about Easter? See much of him?"

"Rarely. I had a job that never stopped. It was exhausting, honestly."

"So no time for relationships?"

"Had _you_ had a relationship anytime between Haley and Beth?"

"Touché. But don't you mean between Haley and you, not Beth?"

Emily's mouth fell slack. "Did we ever really get that far?"

Hotch shrugged. "Three dates. A couple of kisses. Call me old-fashioned, but by that point I'd called all my other girlfriends and told them I wanted to go steady with you."

A low laugh escaped Emily's lips. "Yeah, I guess it wasn't just casual. What were we thinking, anyway? That we were going to be in some secret relationship if things got serious?"

"_If_?" Hotch inserted.

Emily gave Hotch a pleading look.

He wouldn't back down, though. "Emily, I had feelings for you for years. I never would have had the nerve to ask you out if I hadn't already been serious about it.

Emily kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her, running her finger along the swirling embossed pattern on the arm of her chair. "I would've told you eventually, you know."

"Told me what?"

Her mouth was parched. She rubbed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to get things moving again. "About Doyle. All of my relationships after him and before you were short lived. I didn't trust men, even though _I_ was the one who'd played Doyle. Anyway, back to the point. I think you're right that you and I could have gone places, and once we did, I would have told you everything. Can you excuse me for a second?"

Hotch watched Emily whisk away to the bathroom before he could even nod.

Emily closed the bathroom door softly behind her and braced herself over the sink. She steeled herself for a moment before sitting down on the edge of the tub, but the tears came anyway. Only a few, but they told her everything she needed to know.

Her move back from London hadn't been for Hotch. She had never even seriously considering having this conversation with him. She had figured her chances were shot.

What was she thinking? _They're still shot_, she told herself.

_But he deserves to know how you felt. How you still feel._

_He already knows. And he just told you he felt the same way. For years. What else do you want?_

_I can't ask him to leave someone who makes him happy._

"Everything okay?" Hotch asked when Emily reclaimed her seat, dry-eyed.

"Yeah, sorry. I just felt a little nauseous there for a second. Thought there was something funny in one of those drinks."

"I'm glad you would have told me about Doyle. But you didn't even need to mention that. I know you would have told me."

Emily felt a sudden chill pervade her and wrapped her arms around her waist. "And what would you have thought? About what I did with Doyle?"

"That you were just doing your job. That you got in too deep and the only way you could stay alive was to do what you did. Your affair with Doyle wasn't what upset me."

"Then what was?" Emily asked, certain that she didn't really want to know.

"Honestly? After your funeral, the next week or so at the office was almost unbearable. The entire building was somber, really, but for me and the rest of the team, well, it was hard to focus. Every day I'd have them showing up in my office to vent, to try and make sense of your death. Half the time they were just worried about me because I was even quieter than usual, but the rest of the time, they got to talking about the last time they'd talked to you."

"Oh."

"Hindsight being twenty-twenty, they all felt like before you left for Boston, you'd kind of had a…moment with them where it felt like you were saying goodbye."

Emily remembered every single one of those moments. They had played over and over in her mind for years now, even after returning to Quantico and more or less making amends with her friends.

"What upset me," Hotch continued, "was that you didn't say goodbye to me. You didn't say anything. The last conversation I had with you didn't have that feeling."

"I'm sorry," Emily murmured. "First of all, I didn't really plan those moments with everyone else—"

"But once you realized you were leaving, once you realized we might never see you alive again, and you'd had your moments with everyone else, you could have pulled me aside and planned _that_ moment. You could have said something."

"I wasn't trying to slight you, Hotch, I—"

"This isn't about my feelings being hurt, Emily," Hotch said with more emotion in his voice than he had heard in a long time. "My skin is a little thicker than that. It's about you not trusting me, not giving me a chance to help you."

"I was protecting you, Hotch. I knew what Doyle and his men were capable of. Everyone else just thought I was having an off day. I wasn't feeling well and Garcia even asked me if I was pregnant. But I just made some excuses or apologies or whatever I needed to do and we all went on our way. But if I'd said a word to you, let you see me alone that day, you wouldn't have let me walk away that easily. You would've broken me eventually and I couldn't risk that happening, especially since you have Jack. I'm sorry it hurt you or made you feel like you could've done something differently, but if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing."

Hotch's coarse stubble scraped his fingers as he massaged his jaw. "I was worried sick about you. And that's not a figure of speech."

"I know," Emily replied shamefully, the tears returning without warning. "I'm sorry that I put you through that. So sorry."

Hotch recalled the couple of times he'd emptied a flask at work late at night and had passed out in his chair, only to be roused by his phone's incessant ringing, with Jessica wondering where he was.

"Can I ask you something?" Emily said.

"Sounds like we're both being honest with each other," Hotch replied plainly. "Now would probably be a good time."

"Why didn't you say any of this when I got back from Paris, after the ordeal was over and things settled down? You just…acted like nothing had happened. Not us, not my going into hiding. Nothing. Everyone else was still looking at me like I was a ghost, but you treated me like you had before we started seeing each other. Why?"

"I figured you needed one person to treat you normally. Since everyone else was experiencing you coming back from the dead, even if not everyone had completely bought it in the first place, I had to be that person."

"I appreciate that more than you know. But what about once things got a little more back to normal? Why not then?"

"Were you in the right headspace for a relationship?" Hotch challenged her. She said nothing. "Exactly. I was being sensible. Not opening doors that needed to stay closed for a while."

"Okay, fine. What about after I got out of my funk? I did eventually, for the most part. Why did you go to Beth instead of me?"

"Is that what—is _that_ what this is about?" Hotch stammered. "This is about Beth?"

"It's not about _her_, Hotch, it's about us. _We_—" she nearly shouted, rising from her chair and point back and forth between the two of them, "—we make sense. We always have. And I knew that. I finally got my head on straight again one day and I come into the office planning to ask you if you want to start back up where we left off. And that _same_ day, I find out _you've_ found someone else."

"Point fingers much?" Hotch retorted, though he didn't raise his voice to match Emily's. "You could've easily said something to me before Beth and I got serious."

"Easily? It is not _easy_ to go to someone you went on three dates with a year ago and tell them 'Oh, by the way, I know you've finally recovered from all the pain I caused you and you're seeing someone new and you're happy, but I'm ready to try again.' That's not easy, Hotch. It's scary as hell."

"You still should've said something," Hotch uttered, shaking his head helplessly. "I was lonely. I didn't know you were ready to try again and I kind of figured it wasn't meant to be, that we'd had our chance and we blew it. But being with you, even for that short time, it reminded me of how much I missed being with anyone. And Beth came along, and—"

"Swept you off your feet?"

"She made me laugh, Emily."

"Garcia makes you laugh. Rossi makes you laugh. Why not date someone you know a little better?" Emily said, pacing the room in a craze.

Hotch sighed. "Come on."

"I'm sorry," Emily groaned, dragging her hands through her hair and pulling the curls apart. "I've made up this conversation in my head so many times but never actually planned on having it, and certainly never planned on it going like this."

"What was it like in your head? Did you think we'd actually get through all of this without any heartache? It's heavy stuff."

"I guess I just pictured the conversation ending differently."

Hotch didn't ask how. He got up and grabbed his coat. "This wasn't a good idea."

_Here goes nothing_, Emily thought, seeing that Hotch was ready to go and knowing this may be the last she saw of him for a long time. And a lot could happen between now and then. A proposal. A quick, maybe even secret wedding. And then, surely, Emily would be out of chances.

"Are you happy with her?"

Hotch stopped at the door, his coat still slung over his arm so he could make a quick getaway. "What?"

"You heard me. Are you happy with her? If you are, I won't say another word."

Hotch looked and felt as sorry as he had since the first time Beth had kissed him, when he'd wished she were Emily but had stuck with the easier, lower maintenance relationship. "I have to go."

**Three Years Ago**

Still pleasantly unaware of the dangers that lay ahead, Hotch and Emily had their last date as scheduled. Hotch had done his research with the flowers, sending pink and red calla lilies that looked innocent enough to come from just about anyone.

Hotch found himself bored with the movie and much more interested in Emily, so just for laughs, he stretched out his arms and feigned a yawn, letting his left arm land around Emily's back. She chuckled under her breath and rewarded him by resting her head rest on his shoulder.

Feeling like a teenager again, Hotch felt invincible. That was until his phone buzzed in his pocket. He sneaked a peek at the screen. "That's the sitter. Be right back," he whispered to Emily.

She waited a minute for him to return, and when he didn't, she left the theater, too, bringing their coats and the popcorn. Hotch was just hanging up.

"What's up? Is Jack okay?" she asked.

"Jack told the sitter he feels like he has to throw up."

"Oh, poor thing."

"My foot. This is a new technique he uses sometimes to avoid having to go to bed. Sometimes he actually goes through with it."

Emily laughed. "Gotta give him points for determination."

"Anyway, I tried to tell this to the sitter, but she told me if he pukes, she's leaving because she doesn't _do_ puke."

"Sitters sure aren't what they used to be," Emily said, handing Hotch his coat.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," she said, putting on her own coat and taking Hotch's hand and shaking the popcorn tub. "We still have popcorn left."

"Are you inviting yourself over?"

"Well, the movie you picked was awful, so I think you owe me one worth watching. And we can't let this eight dollar popcorn go to waste."

"You've found my other weakness," Hotch informed her as they walked down the hall.

"You're cheap?"

"I paid for dinner three dates in a row where none of the menus had pictures."

"Hey, I offered."

"And I declined, as a gentleman should. My point is, I don't mind spending money. I just don't like wasting it. We should eat that popcorn."

"Ah, so that's a yes to the movie at your place?"

"Yes."

"Can I pick the movie this time?" Emily asked.

"You picked this one."

"Only because you made faces at all the others. I'm picking, and it's going to be a comedy. This week sucked."

"Back here," Hotch said suddenly, ducking into the entrance of the men's bathroom and pulling Emily with him.

"Uh, Hotch, don't you think it's a little soon to be sneaking off to the men's room? Ignoring the fact that that's disgusting." Emily knew they were hiding from someone, though, so she just waited.

"JJ and Will," Hotch said, taking a peek to see if the coast was clear. "Unless…JJ doesn't already know, does she?"

"I would say I don't kiss and tell, but we haven't kissed yet. So I'll just stick to 'I don't date my boss and tell a single living female soul until I have another job lined up because women have big mouths.' No one knows, Hotch. Come on, let's get out of here."

Hotch didn't exactly rush home. He had to soak in being alone with Emily, knowing that with their long hours and his son, such nights couldn't be as frequent as he liked until the relationship developed a little further. When they did get home, he paid the sitter for five hours even though she'd only worked three, then went to tuck Jack in.

"Who's here?" Jack asked.

"It's Miss Emily, from work," Hotch answered, tossing Jack some pajamas. "Time to change."

"Why's she here?"

"We're just going to watch some TV together, that's all."

Hotch had made the wrong choice of words. "I wanna watch TV!" Jack exclaimed, changing with unbelievable speed in hopes that he could earn his way back into his father's good graces.

"It's way past your bedtime, and I'm not letting you stay up any later after you pulled that stunt with the babysitter."

Jack pouted. "Can I say hi first?"

"Fine. And say goodnight, too. One trip. Go."

Jack ran down the hall to find Emily settling in on the couch. He'd met her several times before and knew her well enough to leap into her lap. "Hi!"

"Hi, Jack," she said sweetly, wrapping her arms around him. "It's nice to see you. I like your jammies."

"Thanks. I like your dress. It's sparkly. Did you work late with Daddy?"

"I did. Very late. Catching lots of bad guys."

"Can you ask my daddy if I can watch TV with you?" Jack whispered into Emily's ear.

She laughed and left a kiss on his forehead. "I think it's very late and you need to go to bed so you feel better."

"But—"

"Jack," Hotch warned.

"Goodnight," Jack said with little feeling, getting off Emily's lap and slinking off to his room.

Hotch came back out once Jack was tucked in. His arm found its way around Emily instantly. She sunk down into the couch some more and let her head loll against him again. "Is he already asleep?" she asked, surprised at Hotch's courage.

"No, but I threatened him in various ways. Pulled out the big guns. No pancakes for breakfast for a month if he doesn't listen."

"I see. Are all the Hotchner men food motivated?"

"Mention steak and I'm putty in your hands."

"Duly noted." Emily found the hand relaxing by her shoulder and moved it between them instead, preferring the feel of Hotch's fingers interlaced with hers.

"Did you pick a movie?" Hotch asked.

"You don't have anything funny."

"We obviously don't share a sense of humor."

"Well, you think _I'm_ funny, and so do I, so at least there's that."

Hotch turned on the television and flipped channels. After his second time through the listings, he looked down at Emily to see if he was boring her. She wasn't looking at the television, though.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"You're a gentleman."

"We've established that, yes."

Emily pushed herself up and improved her posture, wondering what her mother would say if she'd seen her slouching like that on a date. "When does a gentleman kiss a girl already?"

Hotch's eyes disappeared behind his quiet laughter. "I was going to tonight, but I wanted to wait until I said goodnight to you."

"You can say goodnight now."

"Wow, is my company that unsatisfactory or do you just really want me to kiss you?"

Emily tucked a foot beneath her and placed a hand to Hotch's chest. She teased him on her way in, letting their noses touch but leaving her lips just out of reach. He was too close for her to focus on him, but she could at least see his eyes drift shut while he tucked a rogue curl of satiny hair behind her ear.

Finally, the moment they'd both envisioned in a million different ways would be a memory instead of a desperate wish. Hotch's typically tense shoulders dropped as their lips met. The rest of his body followed suit eventually, melting into the couch.

Emily had planned on a lingering peck on the lips, but now she wanted to feel the heat of Hotch's tongue, too, and couldn't convince herself to wait. He opened up at her urging and leaned in, leaving her no option but to move her hand from his chest to frame his face instead.

They both heard a floorboard creak. They jumped, separating immediately.

"Jack," Hotch scolded the curious boy. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"You said you were just watching TV," Jack said. "Is Miss Emily your girlfriend?"

"Bed. Now." Hotch denied Jack any further attention and didn't breathe again until he heard his door shut.

"You're so mean to him."

Hotch sighed and covered his eyes with his hands. "I need to talk to him. I don't want him to be confused."

"What'll you tell him?"

"He saw what he saw and he's not stupid. I'll just tell him we're more than friends but we want it to be a secret for now. He'll blab to Jessica, probably, but we're safe at work."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll let you get to it."

Hotch didn't argue against Emily leaving. He knew the mood was ruined. "I'll make it up to you," he promised, though. "I'll think of something special for next time."

"Sounds good," Emily said, having no idea that in a few days, she would learn of Ian Doyle's escape from a political prison. Once she did find out, she would begin to distance herself from Hotch and use work as an excuse not to go out with him. But tonight, Hotch stepped out into the hallway with her and shut the door behind him, giving them some privacy.

"Goodnight," Hotch said before kissing her again, this time more tamely. "I had a great time."

"Mmm, so did I. See you Monday."

"Drive safe." Hotch reached for the doorknob and sighed when it wouldn't turn. "Great. Locked myself out."

"Here," Emily said, finding his key on her own key ring and unlocking it for him. "You gave it to me ages ago, after the whole Foyet thing."

"Ah, I forgot I did that. And why are you giving it back?" he asked when Emily slid the key off the ring and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

"How can you give me a key as a romantic gesture if I already have one?"

**Present Day**

Emily soaked in the tub that night, hoping the jets would wash away her misery. The only thing in which she found solace was the fact that she'd tried. She hadn't let Hotch walk away not knowing that she still cared. Given the intensity of the conversation and the fact that she rarely opened up very easily, Hotch could probably even deduce that she loved him. If he knew this and chose Beth instead, then he was either happy where he was and Emily needed to let it be, or he was a coward and a liar and she deserved better.

The jet lag was the only thing that got her to sleep once she crawled under the covers.

Meanwhile, Hotch paced his kitchen—a kitchen with an odd orange color scheme that he hated but Beth loved—and knew what he had to do. He could call Jessica and ask her to pick Jack up from his slumber party in the morning.

No flights this late. Once he sobered up a little, he would catch a cab back to the bar, get his car, drive to New York.

**A/N: You all know I love reviews.**


	3. Home

Hotch was finishing his third cup of coffee by the time he rolled in to Manhattan a little before dawn. The nearest available parking was a long walk from Beth's apartment. He hunched his shoulders against the cold and took advantage of this time to think things through.

He wasn't impulsive. He rarely made important decisions without almost excessive forethought. Was he really going to do this because of something Emily had said? Emily, whom he hadn't seen in a year and a half? What say did she have in his life?

But these thoughts only sped up his footsteps. Thinking was laughable. He'd had the entire drive to think. And he hadn't even needed that.

He checked his watch and figured Beth would probably be getting up anytime now for her early morning run, from which inclement weather (such as the current subzero temperatures) never distracted her.

Beth didn't answer at the first buzz, so Hotch spoke the second time. "Beth, it's me. Are you home?"

"Aaron? It's five in the morning. What's going on? Is everything okay? Never mind—just—come up. I'll see you in a second."

"Hey," Hotch panted at Beth's open door, having climbed the eight stories rather than wait for the elevator.

"Okay, first of all, why didn't you use your key—"

"Didn't want to scare you. Listen, Beth…"

His girlfriend, already dressed for her run as predicted, forgot about tying her hair in a ponytail and eyed him with her mouth hanging open. "Aaron, what's going on? I didn't write down the wrong weekend, did I?"

Hotch shook his head. "We need to talk."

Beth frowned but led Hotch to the leather sofa all the same. They sat next to one another. "Okay…tell me what's on your mind." She reached out for his hand. He didn't snatch it away, but he didn't squeeze back either.

"I'm sorry I came barging in like this, but…"

Hotch wanted Beth to say it for him. He could tell from the subtle widening of her eyes that she already knew. But he hadn't done a manly thing since letting this relationship go on past the point where it felt right. He had to say it himself.

"Beth, I need you to understand that I care about you and I think you're an amazing woman, but…but I've realized—actually, I've known for a long time now—that I'm not happy with what we have. I'm content, yes, but not happy."

Beth took a deep, controlled breath and let go of Hotch's hand. "What makes you say that?"

It was Hotch reaching for Beth's hand this time, hoping against hope that with a simple touch, he could prevent the tears and accusations he figured were to come. She moved both hands from his reach, though, tucking them in between her knees.

"What about this doesn't make you happy? Is it the distance?" she asked when Hotch didn't answer.

"It's not the distance. It's the spark…it's just not there anymore. And I know that relationships aren't always going to be exciting, especially as time goes on, but I really feel like what we have is just filling a void for me. I don't remember the last time that coming to New York was the only place I wanted to be. I hope you don't take this the wrong way—"

"There's a _right _way?" Beth interjected. "We've been together for two years, Aaron! Our anniversary's next week, and here I am, wondering if you're going to propose, and instead you show up at my door before the sun even comes up so you can tell me you're not only not thinking about marriage, but you don't want to be with me anymore? Seriously, is there another way I should interpret this?"

Hotch winced. "Okay, no…but I just don't want you to think that it's anything you did or didn't do. It's just not there for me anymore. I don't know how to explain it."

Beth strode down the hall to her bedroom. Hotch didn't know what else to do but follow.

"A couple of my friends have bets going on how you're going to propose and when," Beth said, sniffling as she stuffed an empty canvas tote with any of Hotch's belongings she could find. "One of them thought it would even be cute if you got Jack involved with it. And I put down—no, you know what, I'm already embarrassing myself enough by crying over you when you don't give a _damn_ about me."

"I never said I didn't care," Hotch sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "You mean a lot to me, you really do. I do want to know how you feel. Finish what you were saying. You put down what?"

Beth continued to fill the bag with socks, underwear, t-shirts, reading glasses, and a couple of picture frames. "I put down a deposit for a venue for the ceremony and reception. Because I'm an idiot. Or, if you want to put it nicely, I guess I'm just a hopeless romantic. You know, someone who's been in a long-distance relationship for two years and believes her boyfriend when he tells her he loves her."

Hotch hung his head. "I thought I did. And when I wasn't…on fire anymore, I thought maybe we were just in a funk or something, but the longer it went on…"

Beth began to pack another bag with Jack's odds and ends from the guest bedroom, though these items she didn't handle carelessly. She held a stuffed elephant close to her heart, as if saying goodbye to her own child. "Is there someone else?" she asked, finally putting the elephant away.

"We haven't done anything about it because I didn't want to cheat, but yes. I do have feelings for someone else."

"Well, maybe you should warn her that your feelings tend to fizzle out."

"There's no guarantee she'll even take me, you know," Hotch pointed out, growing tired of Beth's digs. "We fought, and she asked me if I was happy with you, and I didn't even answer. I just left. So who knows if I'll even have her. But this needed to happen. I know it hurts, but this is the right thing for us."

"Good job, Aaron," Beth said condescendingly. "Unfortunately, I'm all out of gold stars. My last one just went to your new girlfriend for ruining a two-year relationship with one fell swoop, apparently without even having to kiss you or sleep with you. She must be a real catch."

"Enough," Hotch cut in. "I told you, I've been feeling this way about you and me for a while. This other person didn't come back into the picture again until just last night."

"Again? What do you mean, _again_? Is she an ex?" Beth asked, digging through dresser drawers for any of Jack's clothing.

"Somewhat, but is it really necessary to know all the details? Wouldn't you rather know less about her so you can hate her more? Honestly. If someone were leaving me for someone else, that's what I would want. I wouldn't want a picture of that person in my mind. The less you know, the better."

"That might be the only smart thing I've heard you since you got here." Beth handed Hotch the two bags she had packed. "I'll ship the rest."

"What do I tell Jack?"

This turned Beth's eyes red and produced more tears than anything Hotch had said so far. "I don't know, Aaron. Maybe you should've thought of that before you ended _this_ for something that might only last one night."

"Even if Emily turns me down, I still think—"

"Emily? Former colleague Emily? Faked her death Emily?"

Hotch sighed at his slip up. "Yes."

"So much for not having the picture in my head. Well, at least it's not some cheap bimbo. I just hope you don't hurt Jack again. Because you know full well what this is going to do to him. As for this time around, just blame me. And I mean that. He needs your love more than he needs mine. Tell him I'm the one who broke it off."

"You know what I think?" Hotch asked calmly.

Beth didn't say anything, just glared at him as if to ask why he was still in her apartment. They stood face to face in the narrow hallway.

"I think that somewhere in there, you feel the same way about us. I think that if you really thought this relationship was worth saving, you'd be fighting for us instead of packing up my stuff right away. I'm okay with either reaction—I have to accept the consequences. But I think if you _really_ loved me, we wouldn't be having this kind of conversation. And if I really loved you, then obviously I'd be thinking about taking the next step. That's just…my two cents."

Without another word, Beth opened the door and showed Hotch out. To his surprise, she followed him into the hall. "Still going for my run," she explained when Hotch did a double-take. He watched as she squeezed past him in the hall and jogged down the staircase.

**Three Years Ago**

"Hey, Daddy, when's Emily gonna come over again?" Jack asked Hotch one night at dinner shortly after Emily's funeral. Of course, it had to be when Rossi was over.

"Emily, huh?" Rossi asked, looking at his best friend in puzzlement.

"I don't know, buddy," Hotch said, palming the top of Jack's head. "If you're finished with your dinner, why don't you go get your PJs on for me?"

Hotch's depression had rubbed off on Jack over the last week. Jack didn't even try to argue his way out of putting his pajamas on. He just sulked off to his room.

To Hotch's knowledge, Emily was still in the hospital. No one would tell him, and that was for the best. He couldn't compromise the situation by letting one of Doyle's spies see him visiting the hospital a few days after a funeral they had surely been watching.

"What's Emily been doing here?"

"She, uh…kept an eye on Jack for an hour or so a few weeks ago when Jessica and Jack's babysitter were unavailable. I haven't stopped hearing about her ever since. He really likes her."

"So you haven't told him?" Rossi asked, though Hotch could swear Rossi didn't even buy Emily's death, either. But Hotch clearly couldn't ask without risking blowing the secret.

"I don't know how to tell him," Hotch said under his breath. "I just don't."

"Jack didn't know her very well. And you're gonna have to tell him eventually."

"I know. Maybe I just haven't processed it enough myself."

—

Hotch never did tell Jack anything about a death or a funeral. He told him that Emily had had to go away suddenly for work and it didn't look like she would be able to come back anytime soon.

At least that was a disappointment Jack was used to.

For now, to hide the truth, Hotch decided to keep his son away from anyone of consequence, hoping that this didn't go on for too long, that Doyle would come out of hiding, be killed or captured, and Emily could come home.

When Jessica asked why Jack kept talking about Emily as if she were still alive, Hotch had just told her that Jack had had a hard time with the news and asked her not to mention Emily's death to Jack, as it would just upset him further. If Jack happened to find out from some other adult, perhaps a teacher who kept up on the news and overheard Jack talking about her, then Hotch would be in trouble. But he just hoped against hope that it wouldn't be an issue.

By some miracle, the awful plan worked.

Late that summer, when Emily came back into Hotch's life, he thanked God not only for her safe return but for the opportunity to let Jack see her. Jack had long ago given up on the prospect of his father getting a new girlfriend and had seemingly forgotten about the kiss he'd witnessed. But he was unreasonably ecstatic when he saw Emily.

Hotch never told the team that he had not lied to Jack about Emily, that he had let Jack go on believing she was still alive. Emily was in shock over being back and didn't read into anything Jack asked her about going away for work.

Hotch had known for a long time that Emily's return wouldn't mean picking up where they lad left off and going on a fourth date. So he waited. Waited for a sign that Emily was feeling back to her old self again.

That time never seemed to come, and then Beth came along, making Hotch feel as light as air again. Furthermore, Jack had stopped asking about Emily after not seeing her for so long.

Hotch had taken these things as signs that he and Emily weren't meant to be. After all, what normal person would be able to get over everything they'd been through? He even convinced himself that he deserved someone with less baggage, someone who would enrich his life without confusing it. As it turned out, he was sorely wrong. The two years he spent with Beth weren't entirely wasted, though. He had learned a lot about himself and even about Jack.

But not a day with Beth went by that Hotch didn't feel Emily's absence.

**Present Day**

Jack pouted in his room that afternoon. He had locked the door and wouldn't let his father in. He loved Beth as much as any child knew how to love a mother. Beth's moving to New York had been hard on him, but it was utterly devastating for him to hear that he wouldn't see Beth at all anymore. He didn't listen to his father's explanation that he and Beth had just fallen out of love and it that had nothing to do with Jack. The boy was losing a mother all over again.

It broke Hotch's heart to see Jack so distraught. So much so that Hotch was tempted to get in touch with Beth and see if she wanted to take Jack for a weekend. But that would only prolong the pain on both ends. The mood in the room during the breakup didn't bode well for the prospect of continuing contact. Neither did Hotch's current feelings. Being away from Beth and having Emily in his sight's again was freeing. The only downside was the collateral damage in the form of his unhappy son that complicated Hotch's next steps.

Not that Jack's reaction had surprised Hotch, but now he felt a new sort of trepidation about trying to move forward with Emily. If she would even have him, how would he be with her without risking Jack being robbed of a mother for a third time? Hotch wasn't a fan of this added sense of responsibility, but he kept it in mind all the same as he began to plan.

—

When Emily started at her new post at the D. C. Field Office on Monday morning, she was running purely on caffeine. She'd spent the entire weekend trying to get back on Eastern time and forget about her conversation with Hotch and how he'd walked away, but sleep had become a stranger.

"Agent Prentiss," an intern said, knocking on her office door while she was getting to know a little bit more about a couple of her agents, one male, one female. She could see the agents trying to hide awkward smiles as the intern placed a large arrangement of pink and red tulips on her desk.

"Boyfriend? Husband?" the female agent asked. Already, she reminded Emily a little bit of Garcia.

Emily was so exhausted that her brain didn't even realize the possibility that the flowers could be from Hotch. She plucked out the card and grinned. "My dad, apparently. Sorry about that. You were saying, Agent McLean…?"

The male agent continued telling Emily about his past experiences in the field. Emily had almost every bit of information about him that the Bureau did, but she liked to meet her team in person, not on paper.

She took the flowers back to the hotel that night to avoid any further awkward questions. Once in her pajamas and drinking wine from a travel coffee mug, she opened up her computer and continued her search for a house in the suburbs. Again nothing jumped out at her, but she got distracted a few minutes in when she got an email from her father.

"Emily, you called back instead of emailing. Are you feeling all right?" George Prentiss teased.

Emily laughed and sunk back into her pillows. "Hey, Dad. Your email actually reminded me—I wanted to call and thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful. Way to get my entire team whispering about my love life, though. Next time, try yellow."

George laughed nervously. "Honey, I'd love to take credit, but I didn't send you any flowers."

"Come on, Dad."

"Like I said, I'd take credit if I did. Now, about that email. Did you read it? Your mother wants to plan a welcome home dinner for you and you've been ignoring her calls."

"It's called _screening calls because I'm at work_," Emily said, rolling her eyes at her mother's behavior. "A dinner sounds nice. I miss you guys. How about Friday night?"

"Friday night sounds perfect. How's the new job?"

Emily indulged her father in a little more small talk before saying goodnight.

_Who are the flowers from?_ she wondered.

And then it finally clicked. _How can one person be _that_ tired?_

She hadn't let herself think much about him at work. It seemed to be a handy built-in defense mechanism that had allowed her to focus what little energy she had on meeting her new team.

She started to dial his number, one of the few she actually knew by heart, but she stopped herself, not sure of what she even wanted to say to him. Clearly, he was sending her a signal that he was ready to start over. So he'd broken up with Beth. But the way he'd walked out on Friday night still had her feeling humiliated. And why had it taken him two days to decide? Had he really had to think that hard about it?

She had to put her phone on the opposite nightstand that night to avoid the temptation of calling him. She succeeded. The next morning, after a good night's sleep that Hotch couldn't keep from her if he'd called her himself or had even come to her hotel room to tell her he loved her, Emily went back to work feeling a little more prepared for her day. She still hadn't decided whether to call Hotch or what she would say if she did, but at the very least she could be a better unit chief today.

But the same intern knocked on her door with more flowers from "Dad" that evening. No one was with her in her office this time, but she could still see other agents gawking through the window at the pink and red blooms—roses this time. Two dozen of them.

She shut her door before she dialed Hotch, ready to give him a piece of her mind about embarrassing her at work. But then she heard his voice.

"I was beginning to think I'd never hear from you again," Hotch said quite seriously when he picked up.

_I have a team to run, Hotch. I can't have them guessing who my secret admirer is_, she wanted to say. But the soothing tone of his voice, the honesty with which he spoke, distracted her from any yearnings to pick a fight.

"What exactly is going on?" she finally asked. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Have dinner with me tonight. I would say 'no pressure' but I'll be honest instead. I want to talk about us."

"That's probably a good idea," Emily said, her heart racing with such speed that her chest almost hurt. "There's no way I'm getting out of here before eight tonight, though."

"Same here. Jack is with Jessica for the night. How about the Taco Bell by your hotel?"

"Taco Bell? Really?"

"I've got a craving."

"All right…umm, I'll see you around eight-thirty, then. You're buying."

—

Emily didn't remember to tuck her ID badge into her purse until she saw Hotch standing outside the restaurant crawling with teenagers. He looked extremely out of place in a perfectly fitted suit.

"Hey," he said with a genuine smile.

She tried to smile back, but the knot of tension in her gut turned her smile into a grimace.

"I was kidding about Taco Bell. There's a nicer place across the street. Just wanted to see if I could get you to agree to fast food."

Emily laughed under her breath. "Nice. Let's go, it's freezing."

Together they crossed through traffic and arrived at a Thai restaurant.

"This is really not my week for catching on to anything," Emily muttered when she realized what restaurant they were in. If she hadn't tried to end one job and start a new one halfway around the world in the span of four days, if she hadn't been kept up all weekend thinking about Hotch, she would have had her head on straight and realized that right near her hotel, across the street from Taco Bell, was the Thai restaurant where they'd had their first date.

"Took you long enough," Hotch remarked, holding the door.

"I'm so out of it right now, you wouldn't even believe…"

The hostess seated them by the kitchen. Both parties were grateful for a little extra noise, given the nature of the conversation to come.

"So, uh, what was with the tulips and roses?" Emily asked, browsing her menu.

"Red and pink flowers, like what—"

"Like what you sent me after our second date, I know. But you didn't send me tulips or roses back then. You sent me calla lilies."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I remember those flowers like I got them yesterday. They sat on my kitchen counter until they were brown. Actually, I think they were still there when I left for Boston. I never tossed them."

"We'll, I'm sorry I didn't remember the specific type. I thought the color would be hint enough. Do I earn some points back if tell you that you're wearing the same dress you wore on our only other date here?"

Emily looked down at the simple black wrap dress that she loved because she could wear it all day without any seams digging into her body. She'd recycled almost her entire wardrobe over the last few years, but now she knew why she had kept this dress. When she looked back up at Hotch, she saw his hand sneaking across the table. She granted him one of her own to hold. "Yeah, you earn some points back. A lot of points, considering I didn't even notice."

Hotch chuckled. "Are you sure you're awake enough for this conversation?"

Emily swallowed. "We need to at least get through the basics."

A waitress came by to take their drink orders. Hotch showed no sign of letting Emily have her hand back. He stroked his thumb along the back of it, right on top of the table.

"Okay, the basics," Hotch said once they were alone again. "Number one…I ended things with Beth."

"I figured as much, but it's good to hear, all the same, just for my sanity's sake," Emily said, letting out a big breath slowly enough for Hotch to go on without noticing how relieved she was.

"It didn't go swimmingly, but it could've gone worse. She insisted I was walking away from something good, but I don't think she was as into the relationship as she thought she was. Anyway, I did it Friday night—well, early Saturday morning. I drove out there once I sobered up. I hope you don't think I sat on the decision all weekend."

"Actually, I kind of did think that until just now."

Hotch offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I wasn't happy with her, and I knew that long before you asked me. But she didn't do anything to deserve being dumped, so I had to do what I could to show her respect. I had to do things right. I had to end it in person, and I had to end it before things went one step further between you and me."

"So you didn't spend all weekend deciding whether you were going to send me the wrong flowers?"

"Very funny. That actually brings us back to the basics."

"Okay."

"Number two out of three. I want nothing more than for us to try again. I didn't sit on that decision, either. There's more to think about than just the two of us, but that extends beyond the basics, and that's why I had to take a couple of days to think it over."

Emily nodded, her mind not yet registering what Hotch was saying. She was experiencing a bit of a lag time despite the importance of the conversation. "Okay. And number three?"

Hotch licked his lips and brought his other hand to the center of the table. He studied the way Emily's hand disappeared between both of his, admired her slender wrist, and felt the torn up fingernails that told him she was indeed stressed. "You're biting your nails again."

"Number three, Hotch."

"Number three is…" Hotch stopped and took a big breath, making sure he had Emily's eyes on his. "Number three is that I love you."

Emily had expected the news of the breakup and that Hotch would want to get back together. She hadn't expected such a proclamation tonight, though. The sentiment didn't surprise her at all, as she loved him so much it had made her sick to her stomach to see him with another woman. She just hadn't foreseen him _saying_ it. Not yet.

"I know it's really soon," Hotch said, already anxious from Emily's non-response. "But it's the truth. I owe you that. A lot more than that, really…"

Emily hated to draw attention to herself in public places, but she picked up her chair and moved it so that she sat next to Hotch instead of across the table.

The fatigue that wracked her body, mind, and heart was vanquished by the spine-tingling kiss she laid on his lips. She hoped that said enough for now. She knew if she were in Hotch's shoes, she would be sweating over not hearing the _l_-word returned right away, but she wanted to surprise him. It could wait.

"So you're not…upset with me for leaving Friday night?" Hotch wondered, taking a while to form his words.

"I would have preferred not to spend four days in limbo, but you did you had to do. It's over now. If this is going to work between us, then there's a whole lot of forgiving and forgetting that has to go on. I do have one question for you, though," Emily said, staying seated by Hotch and sharing his menu.

Hotch slipped an arm around Emily's back. "What's that?"

"How do I know I'm not just a rebound?"

"Easy," Hotch said without looking up. "Beth was my rebound from you."

"Well, that's very sweet, but how much basketball do you watch?"

"None. Why?"

"Rebounds aren't a one-time thing, Hotch. You can miss shot after shot after shot, especially if you're under too much pressure. Say something to convince me this isn't some spur of the moment thing."

Hotch could tell that Emily was in serious need of some reassurance right now, and with good reason. He respected this and took his time in formulating his answer. "Can I show you instead? This was actually part of another plan, but it can work for this, too."

"What other plan?"

"Remember when Jack crashed our third date and I told you I'd make it up to you?"

Emily nodded. "And then I started distancing myself and disappeared?"

"That, too. Well, I found a way to make it up to you. Hopefully."

Emily was still interested in knowing how Hotch planned to show her that he meant business, but she was already sure that by his side was right where she wanted to be. She weaved her arm through his. "Okay. But can you feed me first? I want one of everything."

—

Hotch drove down an unplowed suburban street. Ice and snow crunched underneath his tires. Emily sat in his passenger seat, watching the houses roll slowly by.

"So what's this all about?" Emily finally asked, covering Hotch's hand on the gearshift and letting her fingertips dance over his. "You've got me very curious."

"Well, how's the house hunting going?"

"Ugh. Don't get me started. I can't find anything in my price range. Anywhere nice with a reasonable commute is just as terribly priced as the city. And nothing has character."

"Not even this neighborhood?"

"This one's _very_ charming," Emily admitted, "but there's nothing for sale in this area. I looked."

Hotch pulled over to the right, stopping in front of a two-story brick home with a crooked snowman whose bent arm waved for everyone to see. No one was home.

"I did a little searching for you," he said. "I know you're busy at work and finding the perfect house can be stressful. So I thought I'd help you out."

"There's no for-sale sign."

"It's not _really_ on the market, but it's kind of complicated."

Emily took in the house for a few moments, then turned back to Hotch. "So this is supposed to not only make up for Jack crashing our third date, but also convince me that you're committed? I'm lost."

Hotch nodded. "It's really a bonus that you're so tired. I get to enjoy every reaction a little more because it takes you so long to get there," he said with a chuckle.

Finally, Emily's eyes opened wide in realization. "This is your new house," she said softly, turning away from him again to reevaluate it now that she knew what Hotch meant. She felt his chin on her shoulder, then his lips behind her ear.

"It is. But here's where I said things would get a little complicated. Jack is still understandably upset about Beth. My problem isn't that I broke up with her too easily, it's that I got too close to her too soon, and let Jack do the same. I really just took the first woman I could find after you. I have absolutely no doubt that you're it for me, that I'm not just settling again, but at the same time it's shaky ground."

Emily rotated again so she could see Hotch, so she could run a finger through his salt and pepper hair that he'd finally stopped dying. "You're scared of hurting Jack again."

Hotch let out a troubled sigh. "I am. I'm not afraid that you'll leave, or that I'll leave. But I'm afraid of confusing him by admitting to a new relationship so soon, if in fact you do agree to it. I don't want him to feel like his feelings don't matter to me. If and when I get to introduce you back into his life again, I want him to be stable and happy first. I don't want to add to the turmoil he's going through right now."

Emily nodded. "Of course. I completely understand. And if it helps to hear it from someone else, you did the right thing by Jack by breaking it off with Beth now rather than later. If you'd kept on going, you might've eventually moved in together here or in New York and gotten married, and it would have been a lot harder on him if you were to end it at that point in time."

"You think I would've married her?" Hotch said, surprised but not doubtful.

"We all do crazy things when we get in too deep and don't know a way out," Emily said with a shrug. "I slept with a terrorist. Can't get much worse than that."

"Fair enough," Hotch conceded. "Thank you. Not for that, but for understanding about Jack. I did kind of need to hear from someone else that I'm not the worst dad ever. _He's_ certainly not going to reassure me of that anytime soon."

Emily smiled gently and gave Hotch a sweet hug. "He loves you. He'll come around soon, I'm sure. I'll do whatever it takes to help you make sure he's comfortable and safe. I can get an apartment for now, month-to-month, and we'll just see where it goes. I'm all in."

"So slow and steady is all right?"

"Slow and steady?" Emily said. "Hotch, you just told me you loved me after taking me on three dates and kissing me twice, all three years ago. I think we need to redefine the word 'slow,' for sure. Probably 'steady,' too, come to think of it."

A deep laugh rose from Hotch's belly. "I wanted to be honest. From here on out, though, no rushing."

"So I _don't_ have to say it back?" Emily asked with a playful twitch of her eyebrow.

"You're back on your game and I'm not sure how I feel about that…"

Emily giggled. "I love…messing with you."

"Are we done here? Would you like a tour of the house?"

Emily nodded fervently and together they walked up the driveway, laughing over nothing.

She could picture herself in each and every room Hotch showed her—in the kitchen making breakfast in pajamas on a Saturday morning with Hotch, waking up next to him in what would someday be their bedroom, watching Jack and a potential family dog chasing each other around the living room.

"What do you think?" Hotch asked with open arms when the tour concluded in the kitchen.

Emily stepped into the space he'd left for her and pressed the tip of her nose to his. "I only have one complaint."

"What's that?" Hotch asked, sneaking a kiss.

"The orange on the kitchen walls is hideous. It's gonna have to go."

"I'm so glad you think so. We can paint it tonight if you want."

"I know you meant that as a joke, but really, if I'm being honest with myself, there's no way I'm sleeping tonight," Emily said. "Let's paint."

Hotch watched, still unsure of what had just happened, while Emily put her coat back on. "We're painting the kitchen."

"We're painting the kitchen," Emily confirmed. "Have any colors in mind?"

"I was thinking a really pale green."

Emily smirked and squeezed Hotch's cheek. "I've always wanted a green kitchen. Okay. I think I can finally say it with confidence."

Hotch waited with bated breath, soaking in Emily's deep, chocolate eyes. "Say what?"

"I love…this house." With that, Emily walked out the front door.

"I know I said you didn't have to say it back, but really…" Hotch trailed off as he locked up. Emily was crouched over by Jack's snowman, inspecting his shriveled carrot nose.

"Wondering how long I'm going to leave you hanging?" Emily teased.

"That would be a good way of putting it, I suppose."

Emily shrugged. "You kept me waiting Saturday through Tuesday, which would be four days. So I wouldn't hold your breath."

Hotch opened the passenger door for Emily. He paused before moving on, leaving room for Emily to say it.

"You really want me to say it, don't you?" Emily asked, getting back out of the car. She leaned against it, getting road salt all over her coat.

"If you say it, I'll let you pick the exact shade."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "You're a man. All pale greens look the same to you. I don't see how this is a sacrifice."

"I'll get you a Snickers at the checkout."

"Ooh, big spender. I love Snickers."

Hotch's nervous smile was beginning to look pathetic. "This is stupid. I don't know why I'm so hung up on it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's endearing. Your insecurities humanize you. Some people do actually think you're a robot, you know."

"All right, all right. I don't know how this turned into bullying me, but let's get going."

"I love you."

When Hotch turned around and saw Emily standing there with a victorious yet serene smile on her face, everything was as right as it was the first time he'd ever kissed her. "Was that so hard?" he asked.

Emily shook her head. "Nope. Easiest three words I've ever said to anyone. I just like watching you squirm, remember?"

**A/N: That's all, folks. Hope you enjoyed this and enjoy #200! Please leave a review. :)**


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